The Last Day of Summer

The sky was wrong.

Liora frowned as she stood at the edge of the field, watching the deep violet streaks pulsing across the horizon like veins. The air hummed with an unnatural stillness. The Nyxarian summer evenings had always brought a warm, golden glow, but today, it felt different—colder, darker.

She glanced at Orin, her younger brother, chasing fireflies in the fading light. His laughter echoed softly across the field, carefree and innocent. Liora’s stomach tightened with unease. They shouldn’t be out here this late.

“Orin, come on,” she called, her voice sounding too sharp, too urgent. “It’s getting dark. We need to head back.”

“Just a little longer!” Orin begged, his eyes wide and gleaming. “The fireflies are out, Liora! I’ve almost caught one!”

Liora sighed, brushing a hand through her hair. She couldn’t deny him, not with that look. Besides, she didn’t want to admit that she was scared—that the sky had made her think of the elders’ warnings about the woods and the figures that watched from the treeline.

“They’ve always been here,” the elders had whispered in hushed tones. “Lurking, waiting.”

But no one ever believed them.

Not until it was too late.

Liora shook her head, trying to push the thoughts away. It was just an old story to keep children from wandering too far. She’d been in the woods before—nothing but trees and shadows. Still, she couldn’t ignore the chill that prickled her skin.

“Five minutes, Orin. Then we go.”

Orin smiled brightly, his attention already back on the fireflies. His small figure darted through the grass, the flickering lights reflecting in his eyes. Liora hugged her arms to her chest, watching as the sky darkened, the violet streaks pulsing like a heartbeat.

Something felt terribly wrong.

As the minutes passed, the air grew heavier. The hum in the distance became more than just a noise—it was like a whisper, faint but persistent, curling through the back of her mind.

“Liora.”

She froze. The whisper wasn’t coming from the field. It was in her head, threading through her thoughts like a cold breeze.

“Liora.”

Her breath hitched. She pressed her hand to her forehead, willing the voice to go away. It was just her imagination. The wind. The fading light. She was scaring herself over nothing.

“Liora, look!” Orin’s voice pulled her back. He was grinning, holding up his cupped hands. A small firefly glowed between his fingers. “I caught one!”

“Great,” she said, forcing a smile. “Now, come on. We really need to—”

“Liora.”

The whisper was louder now, more insistent. She flinched, her heart pounding in her chest. Her gaze darted to the treeline. The woods loomed like a shadowy wall, impenetrable, dark. And standing there, just beyond the first line of trees, were figures.

Silent. Still.

Liora’s throat tightened. She grabbed Orin’s arm, pulling him close.

“We have to go. Now.”

Orin frowned, his joy fading. “But why? The fireflies—”

“There’s no time!” Liora snapped, her voice shaking. The figures hadn’t moved, but she could feel them watching. “Orin, we need to go home.”

Orin hesitated, glancing toward the woods. His eyes, which had been bright and full of life moments ago, now seemed distant, as if something far away had caught his attention.

“They’ve always been here,” he whispered.

Liora’s blood turned to ice. “What?”

Orin looked at her, his eyes glowing faintly—just like the sky. “They’re waiting for us.”

Liora’s stomach dropped. She pulled him harder, her fingers trembling. “No, they’re not. We need to leave.”

But Orin didn’t budge. His gaze was locked on the figures in the trees, his face calm, serene. “They’ve always been here,” he repeated softly, a smile curling at the corners of his lips.

Liora’s breath came in shallow gasps. She could hear the whispers again, louder this time. Not just one voice—a chorus. They overlapped, blending together, pulling at her thoughts.

“We are as one.”

The air felt thick, oppressive. Liora’s heart pounded in her ears as the whispers clawed deeper into her mind. She shook her head violently, trying to dislodge them, but they persisted.

She turned back to Orin, panic rising in her chest. “Orin, please! We have to run!”

But Orin’s eyes were glowing brighter now, his expression blank, like he was listening to something only he could hear.

“They’re waiting for us,” he murmured again. His voice was no longer his own. It was distant, hollow.

Liora’s grip on his arm tightened, but it was no use. Orin’s body had gone stiff, his feet rooted to the ground. He stared at the figures in the woods, his eyes vacant, lost to whatever force had taken him.

“No!” Liora screamed. She yanked at him with all her strength, but he didn’t move. The whispers were louder now, swirling around her, filling her head with ancient, twisted words.

“We are as one.”

Tears blurred her vision as she tried again to pull him, her legs trembling beneath her. The figures in the woods had begun to move—slow, deliberate steps toward them. Their eyes, glowing violet, mirrored Orin’s.

“They’re here,” Orin whispered.

Liora’s breath hitched. She stumbled back, her grip slipping from Orin’s arm. The whispers were inside her now, twisting her thoughts, making it impossible to think clearly.

“We are as one.”

Liora fell to her knees, her body trembling. She pressed her hands to her ears, trying to block out the voices, but it was no use. They were everywhere—inside her mind, inside the air. The fireflies had disappeared, the field plunged into darkness.

The figures were close now. She could feel their presence like a weight pressing down on her chest.

“We are as one.”

Orin’s voice joined the chorus, his eyes glowing brightly in the shadows.

Liora’s heart shattered. She reached for him, but her body felt too heavy, too slow. The whispers were pulling her down, down into the dark, into the void.

“They’ve always been here,” she heard Orin whisper one last time.

And then, as the figures surrounded her, Liora’s voice—no longer her own—joined the others in the dark.

“We are as one.”